Not Like the Fairy Tales
by TheMuseEuterpe
Summary: In the fairy tales, there's a happily ever after. Ginny Weasley's life is not like the fairy tales. Read and review, please!


So much of Ginny Weasley's life had been like a part of a fairy tale. The moments she loved, the moments she tried to forget, and all the moments in between, even the events to which she had been peripheral. It was as if her own personal story had been written merely as a part a greater epic work, one that had now run its course, allowing real life to resume.

But that was the problem: life had resumed. There had been no real happily ever after. Sure, the bad guy had been defeated, good had triumphed, and – she thought wryly to herself – the hero had gotten the girl. But the fairy tales never talked about the aftermath, how to deal with what had transpired. So much of what had once been solid and never-changing in her childhood world was now altered, ruined, and, in some cases, destroyed. Her entire adolescence had been marked by fear, loss, and grief. Of course, there had been good remembrances, too, but for each positive emotion, there was a negative. Being happy came with guilt, because so many were sad. Trusting someone almost always came with doubt, as stories of deceit and treachery were rampant. To love someone meant to worry about them when they weren't with you. Some of Ginny's favorite people had started the story, but had died before its end. The rest were recovering, slowly, some with scars that would never heal.

That thought brought her husband immediately to mind, although he was never far from the center of her thoughts anyway. She stole a glance up at him as they walked home, hand in hand, after the party. He was looking forward, but not at the world, just at the ground several yards ahead of them. His eyes were unfocused; he was lost in thought, as she had been. She considered asking him what he was thinking about, but decided against it. He was always like this after these gatherings, especially the ones her parents threw. The party had been a celebration, the two year anniversary of Harry's triumph over the Dark Lord. It had been very festive, as most of the initial grief of those who were lost had subsided into devoted remembrance. Even George had come this year, although he was still somber and hadn't stayed for long. But for those who had suffered the most, even the most jubilant of parties brought back memories of dark, difficult times not yet fully dealt with. And as Harry had dealt with the darkest and most difficult times of all, it was no surprise to Ginny that he would be more contemplative than usual when those events were brought to mind.

He wasn't like that often. Although Ginny knew that his past was never far from him, he seemed happy almost all the time. After the final battle, they had kept up continual contact while she finished her last year at school, then dated properly once she had gotten her N.E. . It hadn't taken long for him to ask her to marry him, and six months later, they were wed. Their life was a happy one; both were overcome with joy that the other had lived through the hell they had experienced. The things he encountered in his job as an Auror were nothing but shadows of all that he had faced during his school years. But sometimes the shadows would be too much reminder, and she would come upon him sitting in the study, staring out the window at nothing in particular, his mind a thousand miles away. So many times, she had wondered what thoughts held him in such sway, but she never asked. She knew that, while she could listen to whatever he had to tell her, she would never truly understand. She hadn't been there. She couldn't really know.

That was what made these parties so hard for her. As they continued the walk home, she thought back to how some of the guests would ask Harry question after question about the experiences he'd had fighting Voldemort. And when it got to be difficult to explain, or when he couldn't remember exactly all the details, it wasn't Ginny he turned to. That wasn't something she had shared with him. Instead, he turned to Ron and Hermione, who knew him on a level that she could never approach. Having been with him in many of those battles, having seen him at his most desperate times, they had seen a side of Harry that Ginny had never seen, and hoped she would never have to see. She was incredibly thankful for Hermione, and even Ron, and was glad that they had been there for him when he had needed it. But, to be honest with herself, there was also jealousy there. They had a bond she could never break into, never be a part of. And at those parties, when those stories were brought up and told and retold, it was The Golden Trio again, leaving her standing to the side, an outsider. Just another party guest.

She realized that Harry was turning off the street; she looked up, and was surprised to see their house. Her thoughts had accompanied her the entire way home. She sighed as they walked up the front path together. Harry dropped her hand to remove his wand from his pocket; he tapped the doorknob, and the front door unlatched and opened. They made their way into the house. She stopped, removing the light jacket she had worn against the cool spring evening. Hanging it up on the rack beside the door, she moved into the hallway, hearing Harry close and lock the door behind them.

Ginny had made it to the bottom of the hallway stairs when she noticed that there was no movement behind her. She had expected Harry to hang up his coat next to hers and follow her up the stairs to their room. She turned to see where he was, and saw him leaning with his back against the door, watching her with an expression she could not read. Was that fear in his eyes? Sadness? Her heart did a bit of a skip, and she wished again that she could see his thoughts.

"Are you coming up to bed?" she asked lightly, trying to conceal her unease at his demeanor.

He didn't answer, but now she could see a shimmer in his eyes, as if he was holding back tears. She walked back to him, and put her hands on his face as one tear escaped.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she whispered shakily, almost coming to tears herself. Anything that could make him cry would make her cry as well, even if she didn't know what it was.

He stared at her for a moment more, before sighing and dropping his eyes to the floor. "All those people," he started, "at the party. Asking all those questions." He shook his head, causing more tears to spill over her hands. "It just...makes me remember...so much. Everything that happened...everyone we lost..."

He took a break to gather his thoughts, and Ginny's heart sank. Here it was, more stuff that she wouldn't understand. Her husband was hurting, recovering from old wounds, and she couldn't do a thing to help him. It made her feel so external, so helpless. But she had to do what she could, even though it killed her inside. She might not be able to help Harry, but maybe Ron would. They'd been through the same experiences. Ron would understand.

"Do you want to call Ron? They're probably home by now, I'm sure he'd be able to talk with you," she suggested, trying to keep the despair out of her voice. "Maybe he could even Floo over."

Harry pulled his gaze away from the floor to gaze at his wife. This time she understood his expression perfectly: confusion.

"Why would I want to talk to Ron?"

Now she was confused. Wouldn't Ron be the obvious choice? They were best mates, after all; why _wouldn't_ he want to talk to Ron?

Harry was looking at her like he really wanted an answer, so she took a deep breath and turned her gaze to his chest, unable to look him in the eye.

"Well, Ron would understand, wouldn't he? He's probably having some of the same feelings himself." She hadn't been completely able to keep the quiver out of her voice, saying that thought out loud. She hoped Harry hadn't heard it.

There was a moment of silence, then Harry took her hands in his and held them to his chest. "Well, I suppose Ron would understand, but...Ginny, I want to talk to _you._"

She looked up at his eyes, part confused, part disbelieving. "But, I wasn't there. I don't know what it was like." She started to tear up again. "I didn't share that with you, so I won't know how to help you."

Harry stood straight from leaning against the door and pulled Ginny into his arms. "I don't need you to have been there, love. In fact, I'm so very glad you weren't," he said softly into her hair. "I just need you to be here, now. I need you to listen, and help me remember that it's all in the past." He held her even tighter. "I love you, Ginny. More than I have ever loved anything or anyone before. There is no one else I want to be by my side. Those questions would be unbearable if you weren't there. You are mine, and I love you."

The tears ran freely from Ginny's eyes has she realized what he was saying. Of course she didn't have to understand. He just wanted to share his life with her, just as she wanted to share her life with him. Even if that meant she didn't know from first-hand experience what life had been like for him, she could listen to his stories and reassure him that his life didn't have to be like that ever again.

She pulled back so she could look him in the eyes again. "I will be here for you. I want you to share anything and everything you need to with me. Even if what you have to say doesn't make sense to me, I will listen and do everything I can to help you, to remind you of what you have." She pulled herself into him again, their embrace tightening. "You have me, now and forever."

They stayed like that for a moment longer, then Harry sighed. Ginny pulled away from him, taking one of his hands in her own. "Why don't we go upstairs, and you can tell me what's on your mind?" she asked, gently pulling him towards the stairs. He nodded, then slipped his arm around her as they walked, side by side, up the steps.

So much of Ginny Weasley's life had been like a part of a fairy tale. The fairy tale was long over now, but as Ginny sat and listened to Harry talk about what he was feeling, she'd never felt so important. He needed her, and no one else. No one else in the world could give him what she could. And when the time came, he would be there for her. Their love was so deep, so true, that the dark moments couldn't dilute it; instead, the dark times made their love stronger. Because they had each other.

It was better than any fairy tale could hope to be.


End file.
